


Shelter from the Storm

by NAMINEM



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Poor Sieglinde has been through so much, Same with Wolfram, These two need enough other tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10834212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NAMINEM/pseuds/NAMINEM
Summary: Sieglinde, former Emerald Witch ofWolfsschlucht, is haunted by her role in creating a new kind of warfare in Germany.





	Shelter from the Storm

The Forest is so dark that it’s suffocating.

How did she end up here, sitting amongst the scratchy foliage at the foot of an old, mangled oak?

Sieglinde has no idea, but she’s terrified.

She does everything she can to keep still—to keep from losing herself to the darkness, but her hands shake where they’re balled up against her chest, and her breath comes in short, shuddering gasps that she cannot control.

All this as the world she thought she knew dissolves around her like the compounds that went into her potions.

She makes out what looks to be splotches of ink on her fingers, gained perhaps during her final work on the “Ultimate Magic.” But then there’s a distant explosion that makes the ground shudder, and it floods her hiding place with light.

It isn’t ink. It’s blood.

But wait. With yet another explosion and another flash, the blood transforms into angry blisters that distort her skin. Ugly and unnatural.

With a whimper, Sieglinde squeezes her eyes shut.

She doesn’t know what’s real anymore.

The Emerald Witch of _Wolfsschlucht_. A lie. A dreadful deception cooked up so that she would feel a sense of responsibility to her task. So that she would create _it._

_The storm._

Sieglinde had grown accustomed to the occasional storms that passed over _Wolfsschlucht._ She had long since stopped jumping at the sound of thunder or whimpering at the howl of wind. (Especially once Wolfram had come into her life.)

But this is not one of those storms.

_This_ storm comes in the form of poisonous gas. Of loud, bloodthirsty machines that spit lightning and metal and boom like thunder.

Her ears still ring with the sound despite her distance from the bedlam.

Not for the first time that night, her green eyes well with tears, and her lips quiver with fear and anguish. Her heart beats frantically against her ribcage even though she swears it must be a shattered husk by now. And in time with her pulse, a single thought rumbles in her skull—echoing, repeating:

_I never wanted this._

_I never wanted this._

_I never wanted this._

The storm comes, and its power overwhelms her. It destroys her home, her family, her _life._

The storm comes, and it’s her fault because she created it.

And now she is powerless to stop it.

-

Sieglinde wakes up shaking and sobbing under heavy bedclothes that make her sweat.

Desperate to escape the entrapment, she pushes back the layers of cotton and satin and sits up in the bed. The room’s cold air is quick to attack her newly exposed skin, and she is stuck feeling warm and chilled at the same time. Her short, black hair sticks uncomfortably to her cheeks.

She wraps her arms around herself, trying both to find a balance between temperatures and to protect herself from the darkness that hangs uncomfortably over the room.

She remembers shivering in dark foliage. Crying. Alone. Waiting for the ever-advancing destruction to take her.

But slowly, the feeling fades enough that she comes to recognize the large, plush bed. _Her_ bed. In her elegant, English deco-laden bedroom. In her new home in London.

Now that she knows where she is, she attempts to calm her breathing. But despite her best efforts (— _“It’s okay, everything’s fine, Sieglinde”_ —) her body still shakes with fear.

Then there’s a soft tapping on her bedroom door.

She jumps at first, but then she realizes who it must be.

“W-wolf?” she calls pitifully.

For a moment, she worries that her plea had gone unnoticed for how quiet it was, but then she hears the doorknob rattle and turn.

And in enters her butler and her closest friend: Wolfram.

His mere presence takes some of her panic away, and she notices muscles relaxing that she didn’t even realize were tense.

From the way he holds the candelabra, she can see the damage that had been wrought to his right ear during their violent escape from _Wolfsschlucht._ And she wonders for the first time if he now has a scar from when he was shot in the back trying to protect her.

Oh, the things he had done for her—and the things he continues to do for her: it is a type of magic all its own.

There is concern written into Wolfram’s face—evident in the way his brow has furrowed and his regular frown has deepened. He speaks in German—in the language that he is most comfortable—and his voice easily matches his expression. “Lady Sullivan? What is the matter?”

At the question, she finds herself crying with renewed energy.

“The g-gas. The machines—” She hiccups. “It’s all my fault—”

Wolfram shushes her gently and approaches without hesitation. He sets down the candelabra on her nightstand and kneels beside her bed, opening his arms to her.

Sieglinde lets out a sob, and in her anguish, she practically leaps onto the man, wrapping her arms around his neck and crying into his shoulder.

“It’s all right, My Lady.” His thick but gentle voice seems to chase away the darkness. But there’s a touch of something in it that makes Sieglinde’s heart ache. Sadness? Guilt? He continues, “You aren’t responsible for what happened. You only did what you were told to do!”

He goes silent for a moment, as if lost in his own thoughts. But when he speaks again, he sounds more resolute that ever before. “It’s all over now. And you don’t have to think about it ever again. You’re safe.”

So much has happened recently. So many lies and so much destruction…

But Sieglinde knows that despite everything, she can trust Wolfram to be by her side.

For her, that is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the piece I wrote for the April Challenge over at [KuroshitsujiFanfics on deviantArt](http://kuroshitsujifanfics.deviantart.com/). The prompt was "Storm" and the suggested character was Sieglinde. I thought it would be really cool to work with a more metaphorical storm, and of course, I had to add Wolfram to this little story! I couldn't let sweet Sieglinde suffer alone for too long, now could I? :'D 
> 
> (Gosh, these two have had it rough. I mean, maybe as not as much a certain other character in Black Butler—*cough*Ciel*cough*—but still!)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Know that I'm always open to receiving feedback! And if you notice any errors, please let me know!
> 
> Thanks for reading my story! <3


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